


We Are One

by ariel2me



Series: Tudor World [2]
Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We are one, Jasper and I, in all things.”</p><p>Margaret Beaufort and Jasper Tudor, on the eve of his wedding to Katherine Woodville.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are One

“Should I really wed her, Margaret? This Katherine … this Woodville woman.”

“Henry wishes it, to strengthen the York and Rivers affinity. His hold on the throne is still fragile, Jasper, as you well know.” Jasper was to wed Elizabeth of York’s aunt, Katherine Woodville, daughter of the unfortunate erstwhile Earl Rivers, and widow of the even more unfortunate Duke of Buckingham.

“Do you wish it as well?”

She did not wish it. She did not wish Jasper to be wed to Elizabeth Woodville’s sister. She did not wish Jasper to be wed to _any_ woman, in truth. Not when they had only so recently been reunited. Not when she had only so recently despaired of ever seeing him alive again.

_It is God’s will that my son should be king. Henry’s throne must be secured, at any cost. At any cost to myself, and to Jasper. He knows what we must do as well as I do._

“Her late husband left Katherine a rich heiress, and their little boy is the current Duke of Buckingham. There was some talk of the late Buckingham having a claim to the throne as well. That little boy could be used by those who wish to challenge Henry’s rule. Having you, the king’s own Tudor uncle, as Katherine Woodville’s husband and the boy’s stepfather –“

“- will bring them to heel and secure Henry’s throne. Yes, I understand,” Jasper said.

Jasper had always understood, had always understood what it was at the heart of everything, just like Margaret did.

_We are one, Jasper and I, in all things._

“And no doubt Henry also meant it as a way of rewarding his uncle, by giving me a rich heiress to wed,” Jasper said.

“As he should. You deserve everything, Jasper, everything you ever wished for, and much, much more. My boy would not be who he is now, and sitting where he is sitting now, without his uncle Jasper, and everything you have done for him, and everything you have sacrificed for him.”

“Or without you, Margaret. Henry would not be where he is now without his mother’s hard work.” Jasper paused. “There is only one thing I truly want, and yet -”

“You could not have it. I could not have it. We could never ask for it. It will destroy _everything_ we –“

“ – everything we have worked so hard to achieve, all these years. It will destroy Henry, and we will never do that to our boy. I swore an oath to protect him with my life, and I will stand by it.”

“We will _both_ stand by it,” Margaret said firmly.

“Henry … he … he never knew,” Jasper said, averting Margaret’s gaze.

Never knew that his mother and his uncle had shared more than just their love and care for him, that there was also a different kind of love binding them together.

“And he will never know,” Margaret vowed.

They were in agreement, Margaret and Jasper. There was nothing else to be said. Even if Margaret’s husband had been killed at Bosworth, even if Margaret was now a widow and not a wife, even if Thomas Stanley ‘s forces had not been instrumental in his stepson’s victory over Richard, it would still be an impossibility. The scandal alone would ruin Henry before his reign could even begin in earnest. The king’s mother and the king’s uncle. Jasper Tudor seducing his dead brother’s widow. No doubt it would provide much fodder for those already spreading ugly words about ‘ _the horrible Tudors and Beauforts, bastards and illegitimates, scoundrels and wastrels, unfit for the throne._ ’

In any case, Stanley was still very much alive and breathing, rewarded and recognized by his stepson for his service, even if it had come down to the wire if he would actually side with Henry Tudor at Bosworth. Margaret was still a married woman, and likely to be one for some time to come. She was not free. She was Margaret Regina, My Lady the King’s Mother, and she was still, after all these years of pain and hardship, still so frustratingly, maddeningly, _not free_.

Jasper on the other hand … Jasper had been alone for far too long. He had spent most of his life loving another man’s wife, caring for another man’s son, living a life that was not truly his own.

“She is still young, this Katherine. Perhaps she might even give you a son. Your own son, Jasper. Another Tudor to continue the Tudor line.” There was still some trace of envy and bitterness in her voice. Margaret could not erase it completely, even if she meant every word she was telling Jasper.

His face lit up, his eyes shined, at the thought of his own son, no doubt. It was only for the briefest of moment, but Margaret saw it. Saw it and wanted to weep.

 _I could never have given Jasper a son, even if the two of_ _us being married was ever a possibility._

There would only ever be Henry for Margaret; his birth had damaged her too much.

Jasper laughed, trying to pretend as if Margaret had not seen the way his face had beamed just a short while ago. “I am far too old to be a father,” he said, pretending to dismiss the notion out of hand.

“You’re only fifty four, still strong enough to lead men into battle.”

 _Still strong enough to father a true-born son on that Woodville woman_. Katherine Woodville was not as striking and eye-catching as her oldest sister had been in her prime, not likely to win the heart of a king merely by standing and waiting on the side of a road, perhaps, but still beautiful enough for most men, Margaret knew.

“Where would I find the energy, or the patience, at my age? Do you remember Henry as a toddler, Margaret? When he was learning to walk, how he would make us hold him for hours while he tottered forwards and backwards on his chubby little feet?” Jasper’s eyes were shining, brighter and longer than they had when she had mentioned the possibility of a son of his own, Margaret noted.

Margaret _did_ remember. Oh how she remembered! Those short few years with Jasper and Henry at Pembroke Castle had been the happiest years of Margaret’s life, and she had not even realized it at the time. Was too young, too silly, too naïve to treasure and cherish those moments as they were happening. Had taken for granted that the three of them being together was somehow something fixed and inviolable, something she need not worry would ever be cruelly snatched away from her.

How wrong she had been. How quickly she was cruelly disabused of her foolish notions. Jasper was never hers, and her son was not truly hers either, not in the eyes of the world, not in the eyes of powerful lords and powerful men calling themselves kings. Jasper had to flee for his life, and Margaret’s son was taken away from her, to be raised by strangers who tried to make Henry forget that he was a Lancastrian, that he was a Tudor, that he was _Margaret_ ’s son. Jasper and Henry were reunited, by the grace of God, but she was still separated from them, their letters her only lifeline, her only consolation.

And now they are together again, the three of them, but it could never be as it were in Pembroke. It could never be as she had dreamed and pined for during all their years of separation.

Not a touch of gossip or scandal, or even a whiff of a rumour must be allowed to taint Henry’s reign. Margaret and Jasper must be beyond reproach. Beyond suspicion.

Which is why Jasper must be married. Jasper must marry this Woodville woman and look pleased to do it, while Margaret must pretend that her heart is not breaking.

They would never be together - not in the way that a man and a woman who love one another would - but they are still one. They would always be one, in their will and determination, in their strength and fortitude, in their unwavering sense of purpose and destiny.

It is enough, for both of them. It _should_ be enough. It _has_ to be enough. And yet, staring at Jasper’s face with its sombre, mournful look, a look Margaret knows is mirrored on her own face, she wonders. She truly wonders, if they have not been deceiving themselves all along.


End file.
